


five times Han Solo came home (once he never left)

by Oparu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In no realm of the universe is this supposed to happen, he's not meant to fall in love with a Princess, General, inspirational leader of so many, but he has, so he has to make this work, because Leia's worth everything. </p><p>Only slightly complicating Han and Leia's simple romance is Luke, who's damn fine Jedi but an awkward person who's still learning how to be a brother and a friend, and sometimes Han has to remind himself that the kid grew up talking to landspeeders more than people. </p><p>Post-Return of the Jedi, before The Force Awakens, very mild spoilers, could be all AU if you haven't seen TFA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> many many thanks to shinewithalltheuntold for being my Star Wars idea person, and reading and being so very supportive. 
> 
> This has five parts: Han and Leia on the Falcon, Han screws up, Leia (well, Luke, really) screws up, Han and Leia come home together, and Luke tells Leia about their mother at a very inappropriate time and Han has to help. 
> 
> It's kind of fluffy, a little angsty, mostly all the relationship moments I needed to write after seeing TFA.

Her injured arm leans against his chest. The dressing has taken care of the worst of it, but he knows the sting of blaster wounds. The fires burn low under the night sky; the Ewoks and what's left of their invasion fleet celebrate together because the Empire might be defeated this time. Leia smiles like it is. They'll have to mop up the remnants and build a new republic which is much harder than blowing up a Death Star or two. He toys with her fingers, stroking the back of her hand. Her head rests on his shoulder and the stars are bright through the trees on this quiet little world. She's been hugged and congratulated and saluted for two days straight and now, some of the ships have begun to depart and she'll probably go on one of them but she hasn't, not yet.

He'll wait. He'll go where she goes because this warmth isn't just on his chest, but in it and he has no idea what to do, except that he wants to keep kissing her, over and over and she seems to want that too. Not just tonight, not in the moment, but tomorrow, and the next day and he's never spent more than a handful of days with anyone. Not like this. Never.

Leia shifts, slipping closer into his arms. She sighs.

"It still stings."

"I know," he says, unable to come up with anything better. "Next it'll itch."

"Great." She turns her head, looking up at him. "Distract me."

"Oh, distract you?" He can think of quite a few ways to do that, but maybe not in front of an audience. "I wonder how I could possibly distract you? I'm not that smart."

"You're smarter than you look."

He chuckles, then kisses her because that makes his mind go blank. Maybe that works as well on her. Leia leans into the kiss, into him, and he nibbles because her lips are the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. Leia's tongue presses against his upper lip, then she's in his mouth and he's the one who can't think. She pulls him closer with her good arm, tugging his hair. He can't help thinking this alone is worth beating the Empire for. He's been kissed before, been had, but Leia, she's a princess and she's accustomed to getting her way. So he surrenders, lets her tongue tease along his lips.

"Seems you're perfectly capable of distracting yourself," he whispers against her mouth.

She takes a breath, balling her fingers in his jacket. "I wanted to taste you."

"Maybe you'll grow to like the taste of scoundrel."

"Only one," she replies. Her eyes stare too deep into his. Does she realize that he's not forever, like she is? That there's a shallowness to his mind that she'll never understand. That can't be enough for her. She's been educated; she leads. The whole Rebellion looks to her and he's just a pilot, who happens to be not too bad with a blaster.

"I don't even know where I'm going to sleep," she whispers, kissing his cheek. "The huts are pretty full."

"They are," he answers. Han squeezes her hand, his heart thudding in his chest like a malfunctioning grav plate. "You know, there's plenty of room on the _Falcon_. Chewie's off sleeping in a tree. He loves that."

"So you're home alone?" She leans in and the scent of her carries over that of the forest: bonfire, bacta plaster and field soap.

"Don't have to be." He kisses her again, careful not to rest his hand on any part of her injured arm. "Might be nice to have the company. The _Falcon_ can be kind of lonely when it's just me."

"Wouldn't want that," she whispers back. There's no fear in her voice, no apprehension, and he loves that about her because he's terrified of her, of them, of what it's going to be like when he blows this to hell like every other relationship.

He stands, drawing her up with him. Grabbing one of the flasks of whatever passes for whiskey on this planet, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and they slip through the last of the party.

Leia kisses him again on the path to the landing pads, pushing him against a tree. She runs her hand across his chest, tracing his sternum. She must know how his heart races, because his blood rushes in his ears and the more she kisses him, the less resolve he has. He wants this, wants Leia straddling his lap while he runs his fingers through her hair. It's so rarely down and it's so soft. She's soft, and hard. So strong.

And brave in a way he isn't. He needs to see her eyes, because he can almost believe he's good enough when she looks at him.

"Hey," he says. "We don't- there's no rush."

"I like kissing you."

Her smile makes his heart take a moment to recover because it's too warm. "Me too, I mean, I like--"

She saves him from searching for words and kisses him again, leading him down the path. Leia opens the _Falcon_ , kissing him in the doorway. The door clunks a little.

"Been meaning to get that fixed. Lando--"

"I don't care about the door," she says, taking his hand. Leia leads him up the ramp, to the best home he's known. She leads him to his cabin, because she knows exactly where it is. She figures out that he squirms if she kisses that place on his neck, even if she has to stand on her tiptoes. He lifts her up, pressing her against the wall so she can keep kissing her way up his neck. He lifts her, pressing their bodies together against the wall. Leia wraps her legs all too easily around his waist, letting him carry her the rest of the way to his quarters.

They fumble with the door, kissing more than they manage to work the mechanism. It finally slides open and they half tumble through onto his bed.

She hisses in pain, only for a moment, and he kisses her forehead in apology.

Leia holds his chin, and smiles, pain forgotten. "So this is what your bed looks like."

"It's not much." He hasn't replaced it. Out of all the odd parts on this hunk of junk, this is one of the originals, and it's home.

She tugs him down by his shirt. Her eyes shine, full of longing and the same determination that brought down the Empire. He doesn't stand a chance. "Welcome home, Captain."

He laughs, because he's wanted to be anything but scoundrel, nerf-herder, smuggler, and 'captain' has a nice ring to it when she says it. Hell, everything has a nice ring to it when she says it.

Leia tugs up his shirt and he doesn't want to stop her, he wants to rip his own shirt off of his head, hers too, but they're going to do this right. Nice.

Except Leia's not nice, she's definitely not playing nice _at all_ because her hands, her cold little hands run down his stomach. He wants to ask if she's sure this is what she wants, but he doesn't want to ruin this, them, because he has a pretty fantastic track record ruining things. And small freighters. Sometimes big ones.

"Leia--"

"Shut up."

"Leia," he tries again, kissing her hands when he pulls them away from his stomach.

"Don't you dare stop--"

He shakes his head and kisses her mouth, promising with his lips that he has no intention of that. "This is what you want." It's not a question, not really, but--

"And not what you want?"

She's a horrible person, because she knows exactly what he wants and it's more of the way she wriggles against his hips.

"Oh, it is, trust me."

She runs her hand over his neck, pulling him closer, her fingers tangled in his hair. "I trust you with my life."

Han kisses her forehead, then her cheek and shifts so his weight is on the bunk, not her. He runs his hand over her chest and stops with it over her heart. "Do you trust me with this?"

"Yes," she murmurs, too quickly. "I love you."

Love isn't easy, and worse, it pretends to be easy when it's actually anything but.  He can't do that with her, can't risk the inevitable end that comes to all his relationships. Leia, he can't leave when he ruins this, because even though she'll be better off without him, he loves her. He's that selfish.

She kisses his mouth, because she's so much braver. "Should I ask if you trust me?"

He shakes his head. "You want to ask that now?"

"You started this!" Leia pushes herself up on her elbows, trying to get a better look at him, and she winces because she must have forgotten that bending her arm like that hurts.

"Hey," he reaches for her shoulder, wanting to take her pain away. "Look, relationships, especially these kinds, well, all relationships that aren't being friends with a Wookie, don't end well for me. They don't even end, they get left behind and I don't go back. I'm not good at coming back."

"You came back to Yavin Four and saved Luke," she reminds him. Her eyes are too soft, too trusting. How can she look at him like that? "You came back to the control room on Hoth to save me. You come back."

"That was different--"

She lies back down, and again she winces and the little hitch in her voice just hurts, but she's ignoring it and she's fine. She's _fine_ . Leia reaches for his chin, making him look into her dark brown eyes. "Han, I know you don't want to believe it, but you're a good man, and you can be that and a smuggler, a scoundrel, and a general. I didn't think it was possible, but you're unique, and I love you. I love _all_ of you, even the parts that infuriate me."

"Especially those parts," he adds, because he adores that little smirk of hers.

"I already told you to shut up," she repeats. Instead of fighting, he kisses her, and they keep kissing until her (warmer) hands run down his stomach and he aches to be closer to her, skin on skin because she's so soft and warm. They take her shirt off carefully, easing the rough fabric over her injured arm. His shirt they tear over his head. because they need to touch and it's just in the way like the rest of their clothes.

He'll have to tease her later because the floor of the Falcon is not the kind of place she'd ever want her clothes, but she's not as stuck-up as he says she is. He's seen her dirty, and they've both slept in those Ewok huts, and been through sandstorms on Tatooine, she's not the kind of princess who worries about being far from a shower.

Her underthings join his and then her bare skin slips against his like a live conduit, and he forgets to worry about the sheets of his bunk, or the rust he's been meaning to get out of that corner. There's a whole galaxy that they need to save, the skeleton of an empire to pull down and bury, but her body, her mouth, the warmth of her makes all of that fade while his heart leaps to lightspeed. She laughs beneath him, rises up to meet him, panting and urging him on- _in-_ because they have to have each other, have this. He needs to hear the catch in her breath, taste her skin, her sweat; her very breath.

"I'm not going to break," she whispers into his ear when she thinks him too gentle. She's the strongest person he knows, but he needs to take his time, learn her skin and explore.

"I might," he mutters against her lips. Talking is a waste of breath needed for other things, but she tugs him close with her legs, finds his eyes, makes him look.

"No you won't, hotshot." Her mouth presses soft against his, she smiles and pulls them closer, opening her thighs.

Then he's lost, truly adrift because he loves her and being with her, slipping into her body, is the kind of worship he's reserved for space travel, but this is Leia.

And he loves her.


	2. Chapter 2

"Our mechanics will need weeks, potentially _months_ , to rebuild the engines on the _Falcon_ , we don't have enough spare parts as it is, or the right kind of Corellian alloys to rebuild the whole aft quarter of the ship--"

He just stands there, arms up, waiting for her to stop yelling. She hits his chest twice, hard enough that her fists sting and he just stands there, like an idiot because he's an idiot and there's no escaping that, not even with the _Falcon_.

"How could you be so stupid!"

"I wasn't intending to get hit, I can usually fly out of the way of those missiles. Just didn't work, Leia."

No _your highness, your worshipfulness_ , or other nickname she can get angry over. He stands there until she's not yelling, not even talking, and her heart races so loud in her ears that maybe she couldn't hear him, even if he did. She half wants to shoot him and he didn't even call her princess.

She takes a step and rests her head against his chest and the familiar metal, dust and leather of the _Falcon_ still clings to him. Leia can barely breathe because everything's been cold, dry, not really here, since he missed his checkpoint.

Then they found the wreckage, and it wasn't much of the same damn Corellian alloy as the _Falcon_ , but it could have been enough, and Han's engines were blown to pieces so he limped out of the main shipping lanes and it took them weeks to find him.

"You could have been dead."

"But I wasn't," he says and that's him, cocky and teasing and somehow invincible, but she can't lose him. He knows that. He has to know that. "Hey, I know that scared you. It scared me because I knew you'd worry and I knew you wouldn't be able to look for me, and that you'd be concerned."

"Concerned?" her voice breaks on the question and she doesn't even care. The whole New Republic could be watching right now and they can all fly off the outer rim on a garbage scow for all she cares. Her tears that burn their way free from her eyes and her nose hurts from not crying, even though now she is crying and her whole head aches.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He hugs her so tightly that her feet are off the floor. "All I thought about was that you'd worry, and I had no way of letting you know I was okay, and I was," he promises. He sets her down and kisses her. "I know how many people you've lost, and I don't intend to be one of them. I'll come back, as long as I can, okay?"

She nods into his chest, because Han, Luke and the Rebellion are the only family she has left, and he knows that. It's easier for him to say it, because when she lets that sorrow have words it creeps into her and digs deep. She was almost home. Her parents were so worried about that mission, but it was vital, and they understood. They must have.

Maybe Han gets the brunt of that unspent anger, her unconquered tears, because she's the one who left her parents. She's the one who stood on the bridge of the Death Star and watched them die.

She signed the order for Han's mission, told him he should go, even kissed him goodbye. For twenty-two days, she thought he was dead, and knew it was her fault.

Like her parents. Her planet.

He kisses her forehead, leaning down over her as if he can shelter her from this. "If I could have sent a message, I would have."

"I know," she says, but her throat's so tight that she might not have enough made a sound. She trembles, not because she's afraid, but because of the strength it takes not to crumble against him. "I know."

"Come here," he replies, holding her so tightly against him that she doesn't need to stand, barely needs to breathe. He's back, and alive, and he'll be here for months while they fix his damn ship. He'll be obnoxious, because he hates being grounded, but he'll be here.

"Anything happen while I was gone?" His voice is light, easy, and he's doing it for her, because he must be able to feel the heat of her tears through his shirt. She sniffs and shakes her head. "Luke cause any more trouble? Threepio offend any important delegations? Lando, he must have done something, he's a menace to polite company"

She can't come up with any kind of witty answer. Eventually she looks up, but his smile's too gentle, too patient and apologetic and she can't speak. She can't--

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, tall and warm against her, walking them away from everyone else, out across the landing strip. The first group of moons rise over the thick, dark trees, glowing red from the dying sun of this system. She's not angry with him, not really, but she doesn't have the right words for this. She can barely think about speaking before her throat closes. Loving her parents was so much easier than this, than him, because she never doubted them.

Is that it? Is she afraid of him? He kisses her head again and that's not it. She trusts him. That part of her, she can't yet call the force because she's no Jedi, trusts him. She's not afraid of Han Solo. She's always known who to trust. Luke tells her that's the Force, guiding her before she even knew what it was. Han would laugh so hard if she told him that the Force thinks he's a good guy.

"So, what were sunsets like on Alderaan?"

"Pretty," she mumbles, sitting down next to him on a tree trunk that fell long before the rebel base arrived on this planet.

"Purple?"

He shouldn't remember that, but he does, of course.

"Only in the winter."

"Right," he nods, wrapping her fingers in his. "What did they look like in the summer?"

"Why do you keep asking me?"

He turns to her, his dark eyes soft and seemingly endless in the red light of the dual moonrise. "I don't want you to forget."

She snuggles closer into his chest. "I won't forget." They watch the night come, and the stars creep through the trees one by one. "What do you remember?"

"Of Alderaan?" he asks, rubbing the back of her hand. "An asteroid field, a pretty nice landing bay that I had to get out of really fast, it was one of the nice planets, people like me didn't go there often."

"Too close to the inner ring."

"Too civilized. Never picked up a good contract there," he says, and his eyes sparkle. Smugglers are everywhere and his old contacts have been useful. "Still, it's almost where we met, because I can't romanticize the Death Star. Your parents would have hated me."

She kisses that idea quiet. "My mother was the most practical person I've known. You're a good man, a good pilot, a good leader in a fight, you're true to your word and I love you. My father appreciated that people could come from anywhere and rise to be better than they were." Maybe they wouldn't have been that thrilled about her being involved with someone with a price on his head, but they would have gotten over that. They trusted her. "What do you remember of your parents?"

Han shakes his head then kisses her forehead. "Nothing. I had parents, and they died. I remember being in a lot of trouble, getting arrested, running away, learning how not to get shot at, learning to hide. Most places were a lot worse than the dive I met Luke in, maybe a little better than Hoth. No wampas on Corellia, but there were some nasty things down in the city sewers that you wouldn't want hear at night."

"So you don't think that's important to remember?" she asks, half-teasing.

"I think it's okay to let that go, but Alderaan was a good place, with good people, and the rainforest--"

Leia stares down at the dirt beneath their boots, her heart sinking into that dark place she doesn't know how to avoid. "They're still dead."

He nudges her boot with his. "I like to hear about them."

"You're just doing it for me," she says, looking up back into his eyes. He's still too sincere, too caring. For all his feigned brashness, he can't hide his love for her. Maybe that's what makes this so comfortable.

Han's rough fingers brush her chin, then her cheek. "I like knowing you grew up somewhere safe, somewhere happy. It means you know what that looks like. Maybe even how to do that."

"Do what?"

His lips move but he doesn't kiss her. "I just think, if we're going to do this, you and me, one of us should know what it looks like when it's good. I've had years to make a mess of my own life, but with you, it should be something different, something respectable."  

She starts to tease him, but she sees only love in the way his eyes are open, warm. "You want to be respectable?"

"No," he starts, shifting his weight on the log. He fidgets with her fingers, trying to find his thoughts. "And yes, I want to be with you, so yeah, I'd do respectable. I have no idea what that looks like, because I've never seen it up close. It's different out there on the outer rim, some people make it together, have other people, but most of the time, you're alone, and I know what that's like. I don't even remember the family I came from." He takes both of her hands, half-losing his seat to do it. "And I didn't think I wanted anything like that, but I do, Leia."

"Is this some kind of proposal?" she asks, hating the edge in her own voice. Just because her parents were good at being married doesn't mean she has the first idea…

But she loves him and she's not afraid.

"Yeah," he replies. "I think, do you want it to be?"

"I didn't let myself think I would have a family," she says, stroking his cheek. "Of any kind. The galaxy was at war, how could I possibly--? And I learned to lead people, not to be with them. Then you crashed into my life, hotshot, and yes, I would like it to be. If that's all right."

"Marry me?" The words are out of his mouth a heartbeat after she finishes and she kisses him.

"I will." They'll have to work it out together. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han plans a wedding and Luke and Leia celebrate with some truly terrible liquor because neither of them learned what the good stuff was.

The waterlilies aren't authentic, and no, it doesn't matter, because the real ones died with Alderaan, but the ones they have are the wrong shade of blue, too pale. Leia won't say anything, she's too polite, but he could have found more vivid ones. 

He doesn't care about damn waterlilies. He does not. He could blow all of them out of an airlock, except, they're the traditional flowers of the Royal Wedding Ceremony of the House of Organa, and since he's marrying in, he ought to get some things right. Not all the things, because it's a heck of a list, and he doesn't know anything about weddings. Spent most of his life avoiding them, but this one…

He wants this one. Heck, he even wants this one to be good, because she deserves it. It's his too, and he can't really be prince of a whole planet (even a dead one) without a little fanfare. He blames the New Republic's total lack of anything to celebrate and the survivors of Alderaan just needing something. 

Which turned into a guest list so big they had to hold the wedding in a park, with a lake, and with the right repulsor units, the wedding party can even stand on the lake, which is similar to how her parents got married. He's seen the holos and neither of them are wearing anything nearly as elaborate, but damn if he didn't try and find someone on this stupid planet of stuck up bureaucrats who could make something. Not that Leia won't be beautiful, because they could get married in flight suits and she'd look incredible. 

Threepio's been fussing over the medals, deciding which will be worn in which place and figuring out how to fit Leia's on her dress. It's a good thing he chose the one that didn't have any of the embroidery, because it would just be covered by all the honors she's amassed as one of the leaders of the Rebellion. Practically the first thing the New Republic did was declare her a saint, and she deserves it. She's poured her whole adult life into this fight, and even her wedding is one more symbol. This is victory, moving on with their lives after all the fighting. 

There's no time to fix the waterlilies now, and he hopes she won't be disappointed. It's as perfect as he could make it and considering he knew less than nothing about Alderaan protocol before he started, it's a miracle he hasn't taken Threepio apart and tossed him into the lake they're about to get married on. 

Knocking twice, he leans on the wall beside her door. They can do this, right? Luke answers, his grin as wide as the Solturi Asteroid belt. 

"Have you stopped fretting over the flowers yet?"

"No," Han replies, shaking his head. "I'll be up all night worrying about the arrangements for the banquet tables, but I thought I'd see if my lovely almost-wife had anything else she needed me to do." 

Leia pushes herself up from the bed and half-stumbles into his arms. She kisses him, her mouth wet and clumsy. "I think you've done more than enough." 

"Wait until you see the damn flowers," he answers, kissing her again. "I only have holos to go on, but I think they're pretty good."

She tugs him down to the bed next to her, half slipping into his lap. She tastes of liquor, and his lips are almost numb just from kissing her. Whatever it is has a spice to it he knows from somewhere. He can't place it. Must be one of the innumerable gifts people keep sending her, or one of the many things Luke's been given in recognition of his status as the only living Jedi master. They're both so popular that a fleet of droids probably has to respond to their messages. 

Two other protocol droids had to be transferred just to help Threepio with all the correspondence leading up to the wedding and he's all the more anxious because he has to check over their work too. 

Leia kisses him again while Luke explains where they got the bottle of dark grey liquor from. Han's mid-kiss, her tongue teasing his own, when he remembers the taste and where he knows it from. That woodiness, the hint of bitterness in the finish. He grabs the bottle and takes a swig. 

"Hey, that's mine," Luke protests, laughing. 

Taking Leia's glass from the table, he spits his mouthful of the foul stuff into it while she protests. 

"That, this is Gulkaerian triple distilled whiskey, that's what it is." He sticks the stopper on the bottle and puts it up in the highest shelf of Leia's quarters. Luke and Leia stare at him with far too identical drunken glares. "Yes, it's expensive, and it's good, and it's a really good feeling drunk, but it's a three day hangover, at least, and that's if you have the constitution of a Wookie. I can't believe you drank this."

"It was a gift, Han," Leia protests, staring up at the compartment where he's stashed the bottle. "It can't be that bad."

"Not that bad?" he repeats. His tongue tingles, so do his gums and he can't imagine why either of them kept drinking it. "Gulkaerian whiskey is banned on all but three planets of the Outer Rim because it makes bar patrons too hungover to return the next day and cuts down on profits."

"No wonder Quri Prime was so happy to give it to me," Luke replies, still chuckling. He won't understand until tomorrow when the ceremonial horns dig into his skull like ice picks. At least if he ends up throwing up, it won't be in front of an audience.

He comms Threepio for strongest painkillers he'll be able to get from the infirmary and sends one of Leia's aides to the right part of the city for the less than legal anti-intoxicants favored by the upper classes. Leia's probably never needed them before, but there's a first time for everything. 

She smiles up at him, giggling while he tries to talk. Her pulpils are too wide, too dark, and her fingers stroke his cheek with none of her usual care. "It's not so bad, don't look at Luke like that. It's not his fault."

"Of course not," he replies, shaking his head. He disentangles himself from her and the way she can't stop playing with his collar. "I blame Luke, because he grew up on a backwater like Tatooine and didn't learn what the good kinds of moonshine were." He nudges Luke with his foot while he passes and Luke's dopey grin suggests he still doesn't understand how much his head is going to hurt tomorrow. 

"For the record, anything from the Ulukiri system is good and anything that makes your tongue go numb on the first sip should be avoided like whatever was in that Ewok stew." He grabs two containers of water and tosses one to Luke before Leia pulls him back down to the bed. 

Stroking his stomach, Leia grins at him. "You were nice to Ewoks about their stew."

"I wanted them to help us defeat the Stormtroopers," he retorts. Pressing the water into her hands, he sighs. "I would have eaten raw tonja buck if it would have helped."

"Well, tomorrow you won't have to," Leia pauses, tilting her head. Her smile is far too beautiful for someone so drunk. "I hear someone's planned us a very nice dinner." 

"If you don't drink this and four more just like it you'll throw up my very nice dinner, so start sobering up, Princess." 

She toys with his bottom lip, tracing her fingers over it while she drinks. Water dribbles from the corner of her mouth and she beams at him while she tries to catch it and misses with her hand. He strokes her chin, 

"If you say so," she murmurs back. "Prince Consort."

He winces, because the dignitaries have already started adding that to his titles and Prince Consort Han Organa is too much name for anyone whose biggest claim to fame is a piloting stunt. 

"Now who's going to be his highness?" Luke teases from the floor. He At least he drinks his water more reliably than Leia does. Maybe he can use the Force to take some of the alcohol from his blood before the ceremony. 

"Your worship," Leia adds, smirking over the mouth of the bottle. "You'd better get used to it." 

"Hey, I always thought I'd end up king of something," he jokes, helping her steady the bottle so she can finish it. She'll be up most of the night trying to get that foul Gulkaerian swill out of her liver, but better that than dealing with it tomorrow. 

Luke somehow managed to get more water and he offers the bottle to Leia then takes hers to refill it. Han's almost impressed, but Luke stumbles onto the bed with him when he returns and then there he is, between two of the most powerful people in the galaxy, both of them laughing while the make a mess of the bed he was intending to sleep in. 

"There's no crown," Leia tells him, her face suddenly serious. "You don't get to wear a crown. I hope you weren't looking forward to that."

"The traditional bracelets of the House of Organa were lost with Alderaan, but one of the metalworkers on Bilukkis Twelve owed me a favor so the replacements are really nice, even if you're going to share them with a scruffy space jockey." Of course, both of them are too drunk to appreciate the amount of work that has gone into this wedding. Leia will be happy. Her subjects will be happy, and they'll get thirteen whole days just to be together, without responsibility. The galley on the Falcon is even finished on time, so they won't be stuck eating old rations, like they were. (Though, Leia was a good sport about it) 

"Don't make fun of your hair," Luke jokes, running his fingers through Han's brown hair. "I always liked it." 

Leia starts to stroke his head as well and he shivers because their hands  are cold and he's not really ticklish but if they keep doing that--

He rescues Leia's hands and kisses them before giving her back the water bottle. "Drink this, please, and then you can play with my hair all you want."

"I don't really think you're scruffy," she says, staring up at him with sudden seriousness. "You know that, right?"

"I know that." 

"She was just nervous because she'd never liked anyone as much as she liked you," Luke inserts himself into the conversation. "All the nice men were boring."

"Luke--"

"You were just saying," he continues, his sister's protests unheeded. "No one ever looked at you the way Han did,  _ does _ , and no one ever made you so angry." Luke takes a glug of his water then lies back, chuckling. "Very passionate."

Han looks to the ceiling but no one arrives to save him from drunk Jedi knights and their sisters. "Glad you think so, kid." 

"I didn't know how to talk to you," Leia admits, hitting Luke somewhere that makes a thud behind Han's back. "Everyone else in my life I've just been able to talk to but you, you were so hard. All the words didn't make sense." 

Han kisses her forehead, relieved that she takes the moment to drink her water. "I think you conducted yourself well, especially considering that I was such a scoundrel."

"Were you really? Leia asks, stroking his chin far too thoughtfully. She cups his face, half slipping into his lap. "I don't think I remember it that way anymore."

"I'm sure you will next time I screw something up." 

"He's right," Luke adds, sitting up to argue with Leia across his lap. "You'll start calling him names as soon as he comes home late from another mission."

"I call him names because I worry," she protests. 

Luke nods vigorously. "Of course, you do, and that seems fair--"

"Hey!" His (slightly) mocking indignation doesn't stop them from talking about him like he's not there.

"It's hard to worry about someone you care about," Luke finishes, all sympathetic, even though Hans the one who's been in less troubling situations since they agreed to get married and everyone conveniently forgets about the two assassination attempts that were entirely about Leia, not him. Even though he was there for one of them, he's not nearly as important as a symbol of the Rebellion's victory and most of the blaster bolts were directed towards her. 

How much that terrified him never comes up when they're arguing. The first attempt he took less personally because at least that was a bomb that would have killed both of them. He thought respectable would mean getting shot at less, not more, but he can't even be angry, because Leia puts her head on his shoulder and pulls his arm close to her chest. He's marrying her tomorrow and no assassination attempt or the terrible hangovers his wife and new brother-in-law are going to have is going to ruin it. 

Even with the damn waterlilies, it's too nice of a wedding to worry about the unfairness in the perception of who worries more often. Leia's lost almost everyone except for him and Luke, and, other than Chewie, he's never had anyone else to lose. Marriage doesn't change how much he loves her, or that the bonding is a formality, as ceremonial as the trappings he's worked so hard on to get right (and somehow still hasn't). 

He has to remind himself how much he loves them both as they all end up in their bed, him in the middle while their drunken ramblings make steadily less sense. Han gets as much water into both of them as he can, but they're up and down all night. 

Her sheepish smile when he has to wake her is worth everything, so is the way she manages to stand in his shadow all through the ceremony, hiding her eyes from the sunshine. Luke winces just as much as she does when the salutes fire around them. 

Their wedding night promises to be a very early, exhausted collapse into bed on the  _ Falcon _ but at least for a day or two, they'll be safe. Far from overly enthusiastic senators, royalty from other planets, and their well-meaning brother and whatever terrible outer rim moonshine he brings home as a gift next time. 

Maybe they can stretch it for another few days if the New Republic can hold itself together and everyone who wants to kill them could just stay quiet. That's not too much to ask, right? They could get that lucky. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han looks after little Poe Dameron, and that sparks a conversation about a little x-wing pilot of their own.

"It won't be long," she had promised, smiling. He'd believed her and let Shara and Kes entrust him with their all too adorable young son, because long discussions about trade with Yavin Four and developing the colony for more pilots and warriors who wanted to start their own lives after the end of the war, were not for toddlers. Or for Han, really, so at first he was glad to have the kid. 

Poe likes sticks, and rocks, and making flying noises with the sticks and rocks. Han can do flying noises pretty well, even if he isn't used to have spaceships as reliable as the ones made of imagination. None of the stick-ships ever blew their hyperdrive motivators, even though one had crashed spectacularly into a tree. 

When that got boring they walk through the endless green woods that Han barely had a chance to see the last time he was here. Poe's attempts at speech aren't quite words as Han knows them, but the kid seems happy enough, judging by his smile. Han scoops him up and flies him over rocks and tree trunks and they wander paths that Poe obviously knows, even if Han doesn't. The kid loves to race ahead and have Han catch up, and he's a menace on two tiny legs, but he's a cute one. 

He laughs far too easily when Han makes silly faces and after he decides he likes Han, he babbles. It takes time for Han to make out what Poe uses for words, because his version of X-Wing is different than what Han thought the word sounded like, he gets it. 

Sort of. Poe holds up another rock, this one slightly more purple than the last and waves it at Han until he holds out his hand to take it. 

"Thanks."

More muttering, which might be 'you're welcome'. It might also be 'this isn't a rock, it's a dangerous creature'. Hard to tell. Han's gotten pretty good at Wookie, and this isn't it. He comms Chewie and has him listen to the kid for awhile but it's also beyond him. 

Maybe the kid just has his own language. Walking through the jungle, they stop in a clearing next to a stream and this, this is the place he really loves, judging by the increase in words that Han does not recognize. He's no expert, but he's certain wet toddlers don't go over well with their parents, so he tries to keep Poe on the edge, even though the kid's drawn to water as if it had a tractor beam. 

Sand though, isn't so bad, right? He has some towels on the Falcon. Chewie could bring one and he could probably get Poe clean, so sand isn't that bad. He remembers how to play in sand, and Poe loves the half-fallen castle they somehow manage to assemble. The stick pillars aren't very sturdy and something made of stones keeps attacking the north wing, but Han can rebuild things that are always breaking because he's had a lot of practice. 

Chewie arrives with towels so they can pretend to be clean when it's time to return Poe and from the way his dark brown eyes are as big as sensor dishes, kid hasn't seen a Wookie before. After the initial fear, and it's on both sides, Han manages to negotiate a truce, because even though Chewie hates to admit it, his fur is very soft. 

Kids love that. This one in particular is entirely enamored with how high he can get on Chewie, which freaks out his co-pilot at first, because human kids just can't climb like Wookie ones, but eventually, they've got it, and it's Chewie's turn to drag the kid through the woods, flying around imaginary asteroid fields and comets. 

When Chewie's tired, Han gets the kid back and now at least Poe's eyes are thoughtful, less hurried and he accepts the yellow fruit Han remembers from last time he was on Yavin, and it's just as good. 

Kid mashes it into his face at first, and Han models taking bites. "Little bites taste better because then it lasts longer, gotta learn patience, kid."

Poe replies happily, his mouth half-covered in fruit, and this is one dinner where Han doesn't feel like he's the one lacking in table manners. 

"More? Yeah, I thought so. Here, here's more."

Poe thanks him, at least, that's what Han choses to believe. The towel already has sand, and mud and then fruit juice on it, but he'll find a way to wash it before they leave, because he really doesn't have that many spare on the  _ Falcon _ . They finish the fruit and the sun's warm, the air's thick and lazy and Han lies back. Poe climbs onto his chest and talks to him while Han tries to decide what conversation they're having.

He ends up talking about Leia, because he loves her, and she's always in the forefront of his mind and Poe must have noticed how amazing she is. 

She even has her hair down today, for once, and he strokes Poe's little black curls and wonders what a kid of theirs would look like. Her eyes are darker than his, maybe their kid will have eyes more like Poe's, deep and brown and endless. The warm sun's soothing and Yavin's safe. Chewie said there weren't any big animals. 

Falling asleep on Han's chest, Poe snores, just a little, tiny breaths that slip out of his mouth. It's cute. Really cute, and he's warm, and as much work as he's been, Han hasn't looked at twigs that way in decades. 

It was fun. 

* * *

Leia's still learning to understand Chewie, and her Wookie is terrible. Han often ends up with his commlink off, but this time it's more likely that Poe wore him out and they're just asleep somewhere. Chewie saw them on the path south of the village, and there's a clearing there.  

It's easy to see what Shara and Kes love about this place, when it's not about to be destroyed by the Empire, the trees are tall and thick and the air's sweet, full of promise. She spends so much time breathing recycled air that she forgets how real air smells and that there are worlds so full of life that it vibrates around her. She'll never muster out of the Rebellion, so this idyllic life is something she can't offer Han. 

He doesn't mind. Hopefully. He knows her, and they talked about what their lives might be like going forward. She has no planet to be senator of, few people to lead, and New Republic fleet is being remodeled into a peacekeeping force, not a wartime interstellar navy. They'll never stop being busy, even if she has the chance to set down her her military responsibilities. At least he's never wanted to farm. 

Han lies sprawled out in the sun, Poe wrapped in his arms on his chest. His hair's too dark, but for that, Poe could be their child, fast asleep on his father's chest. Does she want that? A child of theirs running around the Falcon and chasing him through the corridors on the base is a pleasant thought, almost too nice, and looking at him like that hurts through the warmth in her chest. She sits beside him, reaching for his hair. 

She still doesn't know what she's doing, what married life is for them. He's warm, gentle, and as fascinated with her body as she is with his. They're still overwhelmed, always traveling, trying to build a new government, but even when they don't have time to talk, they have time for each other's skin. 

Having a child would take away from that, at least for awhile. Her parents loved each other, and somehow, between all their responsibilities they made time for each other, and her. Can they do the same thing? They're not as wise or as patient as her parents, and they fight. She never saw them fight. 

She leans down, kissing his forehead. "Are we ready to return Poe now?"

"Only if you're done building a better galaxy, one colony at a time," he answers, yawning. He tilts his head slightly towards her and grins. "Kid's not so bad, Kinda heavy, big conversationalist."

"Oh really?"

Han cradles the sleeping little boy to his chest and sits up, and Poe sleeps right through it. Her chest aches because she barely got to see the little boy and Han's so gentle with him. "We talked about you, because other than talking about freighter parts, I run out of things to say pretty quickly."

Leia beams at him, stroking his cheek with her hand. His face is just a little sticky, like Poe's must be and this moment is such an unexpected gift that the back of her neck tingles with happiness. "What did he have to say about me?"

"He thinks you're beautiful," Han insists on Poe's behalf. "And intelligent, and he might even have admitted a little crush on you." 

She kisses then leans against him, just close enough to smell the fruit and the mud, even the warmth of the sun seems to fill her. "And you had to break his heart."

"I'll do that later," Han says, shifting his weight so he can stand. He gets to his feet with such care that Poe continues to sleep then he stands in front of her, toddler in his arms. 

Maybe she stares too long, because her eyes sting and she can imagine him holding their child, not Kes and Shara's. Her chest tightens up and she can't stop smiling at him. "You look good like that, with a child."

"Kids love me," Han insists, putting on that charming grin. "Wookies too, and Ewoks, they adored me."

"They did," she agrees, and before he starts to walk she just needs to stare at him because her heart won't stop pounding. When did she decide she wanted this? And how can it be this much?

"What is it?"

"You look good with a baby, comfortable even." She meets his eyes and she can't hide it. She's never good at hiding anything from him. 

"So I might be comfortable with a different baby," he elaborates for her. "One that looked more like you and me?"

"It was just a thought," she says, and she doesn't mean to be defensive, but all of a sudden the warmth in her chest turns to fear. He doesn't want children. How could he? "I'm sorry," she continues, trying to make it go away. "I don't know what came over me."  

He looks at Poe, then back at her, his eyes suddenly soft. "Hey, hey, slow down. Just because the kid hasn't screamed his lungs out in the very short time he's been with me doesn't mean I want one of ours, or don't want one. If we were talking about that. " 

Leia meets his eyes, smiling at him and the sleeping toddler against his shoulder. "You've had him all afternoon and he hasn't screamed at all."

Argument forgotten for the moment, he studies her, his forehead furrowed in confusion. "He's just an exceptionally tolerant kid, besides, it hasn't been that long." 

Taking a step towards him, she strokes his cheek. "It's been three hours."

"No," he argues, then shrugs. "Guess we do get along, future Green Leader and I." 

Standing on her tiptoes lets her kiss his cheek and she somehow finds the words she wants. "You don't have to pretend you hate little Poe here on my account; it's okay if you want a baby."

"I never said--"

"Maybe," she has to keep her eyes on his just to keep talking, but looking at him, she believes they can do it. "Maybe I want one too." 

That makes him skip a step. "You do?"

She takes his hand, because she can't look at him and walk, but holding his fingers against hers is almost as good. "Life is the answer to war, isn't it? All around us, everyone's moving on with their lives and we got married-"

He clears his throat and she chuckles. 

"And our wedding was beautiful."

"Thank you." 

"The war's over, we have a new government that's actually listening to the people they govern, and the Senate has been restored." She ducks under one of the branches and stops on the path, turning because she needs to see him. "This is the most stable the galaxies been in our lifetimes. What we're making, what's happening is beautiful and--"

Han shifts Poe into on arm so he can touch her chin. "You'd like a kid to see it." 

She nods, not trusting her throat to let her speak. 

"Our kid," Han continues for her, his voice gentle, without the fear rising in her chest. His father wasn't a scourge of the galaxy who tortured both of them. "I think I'd like that." 

"You would?"

He kisses her hard enough and long enough that Poe's awake and blinking at them when they part. "With you? Yeah, Leia, we can start tonight, if you want to." He kisses her cheek and blood rushes to her face. 

"Do not listen to him," she tells Poe. "When you grow up, be nice."

"I am nice," Han reminds her, shifting to get Poe on his side. "Poe knows, tell her how nice I am." 

Poe reaches his chubby fingers for her face and she kisses his little hand. She's not going to cry, here in the forest, but she might, later. Han will understand. "I see," she answers as if Poe had spoken. "Well, you make a good case." 

"Thought he would," Han agrees, lifting Poe over his head so the toddler shrieks with laughter. "We're old pals, Poe and I. He's got my back." 

"Seems that he does." 

They return Poe to his parents and sit side by side at dinner, their fingers wound together so they rest on her thigh. She can barely eat, even though it's delicious, because she can't stop her mind from racing. Han kisses her more than usual, perhaps because it's a casual setting and they're comfortable. His heart pounds in his chest, and perhaps it's through the Force that she can feel his excitement. 

He wants this, not because she does, but because he wants a child.  _ Their _ child. Children were always part of a misty future that might not have happened if they hadn't been able to defeat the Empire, but they're here, alive, together. Maybe it's not such a farfetched idea after all. 

Back at the _Falcon_ , while Chewie takes the opportunity to sleep in the trees, Han lifts her up and brings her into his lap, kissing her, his lips gentle against hers. He rests his left hand on her heart, and digs in one of his compartments until he comes up with a little metal case. It's old, but the contents are new, she recognizes the infirmary dates from a few weeks ago, just after their wedding. It takes her a moment to remember what they are, because she's never had occasion to ask for them. Standard birth control can be deactivated with a dose. She knows that, but she never--

Han takes out the little grey pill and pops it under his tongue with a wink He shuts the case and passes it to her. 

"You can take yours whenever you're ready, and if you change your mind and want me to go back on, I'll do it, whatever you need." He runs his thumb along her cheek and wrinkles his nose. "They taste awful, if you were wondering." 

"You got these for us?" She kisses the bridge of his nose, holding the little case so tightly that her fingers sting. 

"They're good for years, so I thought, what the hell, maybe we'd need them, someday." His hands wrap around hers, warm and full of confidence. "Doesn't have to be today. I just wanted you to have the option, and you do, so, there you go."

"Thank you," she says, sitting the box aside to kiss him. The strange chemical aftertaste lingers in his mouth from the deactivator and she winces along with him. "They do taste terrible."

"Hope it's worth it," he teases. It's easy to return his smile and easier still to begin undressing, because this is always familiar, comfortable, full of love.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia discovers she's pregnant, and she's not sure what her lineage means for their child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to Shinewithalltheuntold, for sharing my fic brain.

The door to their quarters shuts behind her, sealing her in, and with everyone behind her, she still can't breathe. Luke tried to help. He knew when he looked at her, felt the change within, and unlike her, he trusted his instincts. His smile was so bright, and she tries to bring that back, remember him being happy, not the rest. 

She can't. Of course he had to tell her, Luke's had to keep enough secrets, but she wasn't ready. Maybe it sounded different coming from Obi-Wan, and maybe if he'd told her, but she doesn't know him, only that he was a friend of her father. 

Why is she not that father's daughter? Why are her eyes not her mother's? Why is the child in her womb not part of them, rather than Darth Vader? Han says it doesn't matter, the parents that raised her and the ones who affected her, made her who she is, and that's what she'll pass on. He tells her that over and over, but he doesn't understand what it's in her blood; her soul. 

Han doesn't know the Force. He's seen it, and he trusts it the way he trusts other things he doesn't understand, like interstellar treaties, and he trusts her. She doesn't know why. Darth Vader hurt him too, and they've spent more nights than she can count wrapped around each other trying to forget pain. Vader didn't know he was her father, but even if he had--

Shivering, she wraps her arms over her chest and leaves her quarters. That quiet isn't helping. She walks through the corridors towards the landing bay, because Han's in a meeting, planning a better route for their trade ships and she can't pull him out because she's upset. 

It shouldn't take that long, but the last time anyone argued with him about how well he could plot a course, that meeting lasted until dawn. If she can't have him, the Falcon is the closest thing, and no one will come after her there, not even Luke. 

Walking up the gangway, she shuts it behind her. Only Han or Chewie will open it, and out of all living creatures, they're the only two she can handle speaking to, and the advantage of Chewie is that she still speaks Wookie so badly that she won't be able to explain. 

The sharp corners of the holocube she has forgotten she's holding dig into her hand, stinging her palm and she forces her grip to loosen. Luke found the official record of their mother's state funeral on Naboo in the archives and gave it to her because he thought it might make her feel better to know who their mother was, to see her face. 

Officially, Senator Padme Amidala died of heart failure, along with her unborn child. Obi-Wan told Luke that she lost the will to live after Anakin attacked her and fell to the Dark Side. Their mother clung to life only long enough to see her children then died, clinging to hope that there was still good in Anakin. 

Obi-Wan had words of hope and compassion for Luke, which he passed along with his usual enthusiasm. Their mother was brave, wise and kind, and Obi-Wan had loved her like a sister. 

Of course, their dead mother was a sainted woman, who had loved Anakin Skywalker even as he had lost himself. Luke thought something in that love might have killed her. The half-corrupted old Jedi records he's been able to find mention Force-bonding between particularly powerful Jedi and their mates, and perhaps that was partially to blame for Padme's death. Luke spoke of all of that hypothetically, like that situation could never occur again, as if she wasn't his powerful, untrained sister who loves her scruffy, scoundrel husband more than reason. 

Then he hugged her, congratulated her, and told her how wonderful it was that she was pregnant. 

He doesn't have to worry that even Luke has no records of what Jedi pregnancy is like, or if she's done something to Han by loving him so that her death, or fall to the Dark Side will kill him like Anakin killed their mother. She's not strong enough for that, surely, but she doesn't know. She can't know what her powers are, she can barely levitate a caf mug across the room, but she's descended from the most powerful Sith Lord- fallen Jedi knight in generations so maybe--

She won't hurt Han. She won't die in childbirth. She's lost too much to lose her family. They've built this family together, saving each other from Death Star, Jabba the Hutt and the Empire.

And her father. 

Using the word seems wrong because Bail Organa was her father, but Darth Vader gave her his genes, his power, and now she's passed that to her baby, and she thought raising a child and building a government at the same time would be difficult.

Luke was so happy. 

She stops walking, because she's run out of the short corridor on the  _ Falcon _ , and standing outside Han's- their- quarters. Something clangs in the new kitchen and she turns, staring at the metal cup shaking on the counter. The  _ Falcon's _ quiet beneath her but the cup rattles, then tips, falling over the side. It sinks through the air and stops, floating above the dark decking. 

Trying to concentrate, she lifts the cup back up with the Force, returning it back, but it floats, and another cup joins it, then a spoon, because instead of putting it down she's just gaining more objects. 

Centering herself like Luke taught her doesn't work because there's something- someone- else there, with her. Not a whole person, not like when Luke helps her meditate, this is a shadow, a light, the faintest notion of a presence. The Force flows through her and the baby and maybe that magnifies it, or she's so distracted by everything that she can't remind herself that she can't do this, that she doesn't know enough. 

A bolt in the ceiling rattles, then clangs, then it's free and another joins it and she stares at them because it's not her. 

She's not doing this. 

Again she tries to find her center, that stillness, but the light's there with her like a glimmermoth and she can't get it out of the corner of her eye, and she can't swat it away because it's the baby. 

Their baby.

She can't concentrate or focus, and more of the bolts rattle around her, building in noise like the static inside her head and every trick she knows to pull in, to find herself again, don't get down just to her, but her and the baby. 

Who's not really there, not enough to be anything more than something that's not her, but it's damn distracting. The vibrating inside of her soul is so much louder than the footsteps or Han's voice that she doesn't realize, doesn't see, until he touches her and he crashes into her thoughts, warm and bright, like the sun breaking a cloud. 

"Leia?"

Metal crashes to the floor all around them, pounding like rain and his hands fly up to protect her head, even though it's all far from her, he holds her anyway. 

Good reflexes for a dad, and she smiles, because maybe with him, she can do this. He's so vivid even through her worries.

"Hey," he says, dropping his hands to her shoulders. "Does Luke think taking apart my ship is homework?" 

She shakes her head and takes a step closer, so she can smell his jacket, and him, just to make her mind stop. 

"What's wrong?"

"I can't concentrate," she says, which isn't the heart of it, but it's what she can say. "How did you?"

"The landing lights on the  _ Falcon _ were flickering," he says, and then grins more gently. "Luke said you might need to talk." 

"I'm sorry," she starts. "I shouldn't have." 

"Leia," he says, squeezing her shoulders. "The  _ Falcon _ can take it, it's a tough old ship."

She takes another step and his heartbeat drums through the rushing in her ears. She can cling to that sound. "I didn't want to see anyone." 

He doesn't even ask if she wants him to go, because he's learned by now that she needs him to stay. Han's arms close around her and he's all around her senses, and having him there makes the tiny light less distracting, less disconcerting because it matches them. This life came from them, not her father. 

Han shuffles his feet and a bolt rolls across the floor. He kisses her forehead and then stares after it. "Didn't know there were so many spares."

"Sorry." 

"Hey, it's repairable, it's fine, some of them must have needed tightening,"  He takes her hand and squeezes it. "It's okay, the  _ Falcon's _ had worse. Are you okay?"

"Luke said--" she starts and stops because she can't speak through the pain in her chest. Her father killed her mother with the Force, through some corruption of his love, and she's like him, she has his strength.And she loves Han. Is it too much? Would she know? Is Han in danger? Is she? Will their child have to grow up without them? 

Her hand trembles within his fingers and he holds it to his chest, letting his heartbeat soothe her. 

"My father-" she swallows. Bail was her father. "Vader, killed my mother as he fell to the dark side." 

Breha smiled at her while she learned her languages, her music, when she didn't want to eat her ruica; that was her mother. 

Yet that other face was with her, the one that was so sad. Leia knows the face of the mother who died, but she doesn't know Vader's. Luke's the only one to see that face. 

"Vader turned, choked her, hurt her and then she--" Her eyes sting like a sandstorm and tears form in the corners. He kisses her forehead, because there's nothing else he can do, and she loves that about Han. How he tries; holds her when he's out of options. "She just died," Leia finishes. "Her heart stopped once Luke and I were--"

"You wouldn't do that," he says into her hair.

"What?" 

Han walks her to the bed, sits down and holds her hands, waiting for her to sit next to him, but she can't. She stares, trying to find meaning in his face, because she doesn't understand any of this. She doesn't want this power or what it might do to their child. She has no time to be a Jedi, or desire to give up all that she has to for that path. She needs Han, loves him, but what if that's already too much? What if she--

"You wouldn't leave our kid," Han finishes, startling her out of her thoughts. "If we had one, I mean. You'd put the kid first, like you should." 

"Not ahead of you," she says, reaching for his shoulders. She wouldn't do that, wouldn't risk him. Somehow she has to save them both, keep them all safe long enough to attempt to have a family, because she wants that, more than anything. 

"Ahead of me?" he asks, searching her face for something he can't find. 

"I wouldn't put our child ahead of you," she says, and she needs him to know that. 

He laughs, tugging her closer to him and the bed. "If we had a child, and you had to choose, me or the kid, you pick the kid, princess, because that's our kid, and she's probably the best kid in the galaxy."

There's so much hope and wonder in his smile that then she can't hold herself together. Once she snapped that he only cared for money but now, now his whole being is entranced in wonder of a child they don't even have yet, that she hasn't told him about, and he loves her.

Him, whomever this being might be, Han loves her. That can't be wrong, or dangerous, because the way he looks at her is the purest of emotions. It's her mother laughing and her father insisting he'd been unfairly ganged up on, and Luke's patience and Han--

_ "Do not fear your love for him."   _

The voice isn't Han's, because he's murmuring that it's all right, that she's safe and when they have a baby, he or she is going to have the whole galaxy to play in. They'll make sure of it. 

She doesn't know the voice, yet--

_ "You love your husband without losing yourself, which is something one set of your parents never understood." _ The speaker shimmers into existence: a Force ghost, the one Luke speaks too so often, General Obi-Wan Kenobi chooses this moment, out of all time, to appear to her. Han can't seem him, doesn't understand why she sits up or why she stares.  _ "Fortunately for you, I believe the other set were more balanced. I was always very fond of Bail and Breha."  _

"General?"

"Me?" Han teases, because she only calls him that when he's in trouble.

Shaking her head, Leia looks back at Han, wishing she could share what she sees. She only knows that face through old holos and historical records, but it is him.  "General Kenobi, he's here."

"Here?" He follows her eyes with his, but he can't see or hear what she does. "In our bedroom?"

_ "I apologize for the intrusion." _

Perhaps she might have welcomed him earlier, if he'd warned her of the mess her biological parents had made of their lives, or he'd warned her that she could be able to feel her son at every moment, that there was no place to retreat that his unformed mind couldn't touch, but she'd discovered these things on her own. 

Luke also meant well, but he couldn't promise that she didn't love Han too much, too greedily, that she wouldn't hurt him someday. A a group with so much accumulated information, Jedi were too slow to share what they knew and others paid for their reticence. 

_ "Tell him that his ship has been vastly improved by the addition of a galley,"  _ Kenobi says, turning his head to survey the room.  _ "And call me Obi-Wan, or Ben, if you wish, General Kenobi is a man who died long ago."  _

"He likes the galley," Leia repeats for Han, who wraps his arm around her shoulders and shrugs. 

"Thanks," Han says, directing it towards empty space. Leaning closer to her, he whispers, "Why is he here?" 

Obi-Wan looks at Han, as if he could see him.  _ "I wish to help."  _

"He wants to help," Leia repeats. Reaching for Han's fingers on her shoulder helps her find some semblance of calm, but even Han can do nothing for the fire in the pit of her stomach.

"Help with what?" 

_ "I am sorry that the knowledge of your pregnancy brings you such anguish, though I understand why you are apprehensive. Even in my time, we knew little of the bond that could exist between a Jedi and her Force-sensitive child.  Anakin was one of the few of my fellow Jedi who had a child, and he did not know to reach for you and your brother, or that you could feel him." _

Leia shakes her head and her stomach knots as if it's full of hot metal."I never--"

_ "He is not Anakin to you, I know, and no apologies of mine, or his, can take the pain he caused you,"  _ Obi-Wan folds his hands in front of him and keeps his eyes on hers while the blue light of the Force twinkles around him. His face is still, quiet, and that makes it all the harder to listen to him because he can't understand her pain. _ "He was once Anakin Skywalker, and like a brother to me." _

"For all of my life, your brother was Darth Vader, and he murdered, tortured, and dominated all that disagreed with him. He took pleasure in what he did to me, Han, and Luke, personally. I saw it, felt his twisted joy."

Han's fingers tighten on hers, and he nuzzles her cheek. Part of her fear melts away, because what she has with him is safe, stable; nothing in the Force can take that. 

He nods, watching her and Han with a knowing look that reminds her of father. They were friends, and Bail always spoke well of him. _"And I am sorry for your pain._ _I loved him, and your mother, and I shared the agony that tore them from each other. I want you to know that you have a strength of will that neither of them did,. Carrying this child may not be easy, but you are not alone.  Your mother hid too many of her fears, and in the end, I believe it was all she could do to see that you and Luke had life."_

"She abandoned us," Leia snaps and Han shifts beside her, startled by her anger. "Luke showed me the medical report, after I was born, her heart just stopped. There was no damage."

_ "Without Anakin, I think it is a testament to your mother's strength that she lived as long as she did. She looked upon your faces, and gave you your names, and the galaxy was a less bright place after her passing."  _ He doesn't defend her parents, and his quiet expression hides none of his feelings. He did love them, she sees that in his eyes and the softness of his mouth.  _ "Their fate does not need to be yours."  _

"How do you know?" Her heart trusts Han, and herself, and allowing herself to want this child has a sweetness that vibrates with hope for the future. Their child will grow up free, in a galaxy without the Empire, and have untold options for her life. She won't be hunted, or bound by laws written under tyranny. 

_ "Let's say I have a good feeling about you and your husband," _ Obi-Wan replies, and that smile she trusts a little more.  _ "I suspected his gruff exterior hid a softer heart when I first met him on Tatooine, and I am pleased that you are so at ease with each other. Your mother would be proud of your accomplishments, but even more with who you are." _

She leans closer to Han, taking his arm because he's steady and sure, and she knows what his reaction will be when she tells him about the baby. She trusts him, absolutely, and that might come from the Force, even though Han would laugh at the idea that the Force has anything positive to say about him. Though maybe he’d believe more now that she’s talking to a ghost. She never longed for her biological mother’s approval when she had her parents, but Obi-Wan’s words cut through her resolve. He knew her, even loved her. 

He nuzzles her cheek, waiting while she finishes her strange conversation. He’s only going to have to do more of this, watching and waiting while the Force he does not understand dictates their lives. He’ll wait. He loves her, and that’s why this is safe, why the two of them are ready for this child, even though they’re afraid. Together, they’re stronger, more patient, better than they were without each other. 

“What was she like?” 

Han strokes her tears away from her eyes, and kisses her forehead. “I hope these are happy tears.”

“Obi-Wan knew my mother, my father- before--”

Obi-Wan folds his hands in front of him, watching her and Han with the kind of stare Luke gets now, where his eyes go on forever.  _ “Your mother was brave, intelligent, and determined. She protected her people, always stood up against tyranny, and listened to other points of view. I admired her very much.”  _ He pauses, and his smile hints at the man beneath the Jedi cloak.  __ Bail always spoke so highly of Obi-Wan, not just his intelligence, but his kindness and humour.  _ “I know you fear your father, and what he became, but you’re as much your mother as you are Anakin. Where we come from can influence who we become, yet you and your brother have brought as much light and hope the the galaxy as Vader brought darkness.  Your child will also determine their own destiny, and chose their own path.” _

She looks away from Obi-Wan, shutting her eyes because she can’t stop crying. When she opens them again, Han’s deep brown eyes shine with tears that mirror her own. He knows. She hasn’t had a chance to find a way to tell him.

He mouths her name and the familiar swell of affection within him takes away the sting of fear. She tries to draw the baby into that emotion with her, to help their baby understand how very loved they are. They can’t understand, not yet, but love means warmth, safety, and the kind of quiet she hasn’t been able to find since Luke confirmed that she was pregnant. Maybe Luke’s wrong about always finding solace within. He lives his life alone, and she doesn’t. She can’t. 

“Luke has been training me, but I--”

_ “There are many ways to know the Force,”  _ Obi-Wan assures her as the light that composes him begins to fade,  _ “and even Master Yoda does not know them all. Trust your feelings, Leia, because they will not lead you to darkness.”  _

She doesn’t plead with him to stay, because he’ll return, she’s sure of it. She nods to Obi-Wan, grateful, but still uncertain that she’s ready to speak to Force ghosts who can appear at any time. If they’re watching her, what must they have seen? 

_ “My congratulations to you both, a child is a great blessing,”  _ Obi-Wan finishes as he disappears. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, almost more to Han than Obi-Wan. She traces his cheek, then kisses him, losing herself in the heat of his mouth against hers. 

“I take it he’s gone now?” Han teases her. He brushes her hair back and tucks it behind her ear. “You okay?”

"I'm sorry."

He raises his eyebrows, then almost chuckles. “Sorry, Leia--?” 

“I don’t know how to do this, I can’t. I couldn’t even tell you without levitating everything on this scrap head.”

Han feigns offense, but his smile only has affection. “This is my home, the scrap heap.” 

She laughs, or sobs, and either way it hurts her chest. Han pulls her closer, tugging her into his lap. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s early, we don’t have to--” he pauses, becoming entirely serious when he looks at her. “Whatever you need to do, I’m here, okay?”

Shaking her head, Leia takes his hand and rests it against her belly. “I want this, with you, but my father--”

Han’s fingers stroke her skin through her shirt. “Your father was a good man.”

Even with him wrapped around her, her chest still tightens up, cold with fear. “He was Darth Vader.” 

“Not that father,” Han corrects her. 

“Darth Vader is the father in my genes, in our--” All of Obi-Wan and Luke’s assurances can chase the icy fear that her biological parents were both weak in a way she won’t be able to keep from her child. The Dark Side has taken so much already, not just from her, but the galaxy itself, and it can’t have their baby. “Whoever Anakin Skywalker was, he fell, and he killed my mother. She was weak, she didn’t see.” 

“Hey, princess, I don’t know what happened to your parents, I don’t know if anyone really does, even the ghost of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”  Han holds her closer, resting his chin against her head. “I don’t know them, and I know you. You’re the strongest person I know, in the whole damn galaxy, and our baby’s going to get that, not just your genes, but you. You’re his- her- mother. You’re a senator and a princess and a general who led the Rebellion that ended the Empire. You can make a whole planet listen to you, you’re powerful.”  

She shudders in his arms, because power is so easily corrupted, and she’s not Luke. She can barely trust her mind not to take apart the  _ Falcon _ when she’s upset, and it’s okay going to get worse. 

“I barely know anything about my powers.”

“You’ve been busy,” he offers but she shakes her head. 

“Not that busy.” 

“You’ve been avoiding your training, and hey, I get that. There’s a lot of stuff I avoid, or at least try to. I don’t remember my parents, and yeah, things were hard, but I’m here, with you and there’s a New Republic and we’re making the galaxy a better place, safer, more just, and I love you, princess-senator-general Leia Organa.” His fingers wrap around hers and she could believe him. “We can do this, but if you don't want to have a baby, we won't."

She turns in his arms, needing to see his face. "That's not it."

"So you were taking my starship apart with your brain because you're so happy?"

"I am happy, if you--" she trails off, searching his eyes. All she can find is love and hope and the ice within her melts beneath his smile. 

"I'm ecstatic." He kisses her, just to prove he’s not being sarcastic. His eyes are so soft, so full of hope. 

Leia studies him, reaches for his emotions with the Force and loses himself in his excitement, his love, because today it’s so much easier to believe because he does. "Okay."

“Okay?” he repeats, and the hope in that question is too much to bear. 

“I can already feel the baby, they’re like a shadow, a light in the corner of the room. It’s so strange.”

“Good strange?”

Straddling his lap, she rests her hand on his heart, letting it beat beneath her hand. “I don’t know yet. I can't believe I thought this was a good idea."

Han chuckles, then lifts her hand to kiss it. "This is our kid, Leia, she's the best idea." 

"Or he."

He looks at her belly, then back up at her, tilting his head, now curious. “Can you tell?” 

“No, not at all,” Leia answers, shrugging. “I can barely hear my own thoughts.”

He leans back against the bunk, getting comfortable with her on top of him. “You do know that’s what it’s like for me most of the time.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re exactly what I need, when I need, more times than I can count.”

“Don’t get too soft on me,” Han teases. “It’ll go to my head.” 

“I love your head,” she retorts, kissing his forehead. “And the rest of you, and our kid will to.” 

“Our kid,” he repeats, taking it in. “We can do this.” 

She nods, and the bolts in the _Falcon_ remain still. For the moment, their child sleeps within her, quiet, but present, and they’ll only grow, but she’ll have Han, Luke and maybe even a ghost or two to lead the way. 

“We can.” 


End file.
